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Lysanor had left the night previously on a sudden message which she had received from Sarum. Sometime the next day, she makes her return with her handmaiden and retainers following behind her. Rather than chattering about with her maid, the young woman looks quiet, thoughtful. With spring still on the near horizon, she draws her cloak in closer, feeling a little chilled by the air or perhaps, a bit nervous about the news which she received the day before. Pulling into the village proper, one of her retainers helps to lower her from her snow white mount, while the others begin to unpack the horse and store the woman's supplies away. Wisps of auburn escape from beneath the hood of her cloak to dance upon a passing breeze. The poor girl isn't sure who she ought speak to first — to confide in her brother or approach her father directly. She will leave this up to fate to determine who she runs into first.

Fortunately, perhaps, it is Lysanor's sibling who appears first, no doubt having caught some word or fuss from some servant or other villager over the returning rider, and thus emerged to meet her. Clearly, in fact, he has only just heard as the effort is obviously a bit rushed, with Cyndeyrn fastening his cloak around his shoulders even as he steps from the heavy front doors of the main hall. Yet even stepping out into the cold, he's all smiles to see his sister, as he ever is when she is away! Quickly he trudges out onto the common 'green' before the hall - although that space is all brown earth crusted with sparkling winter frost at this point. There are posts to tie the horses (and posts for other things, Dinton justice always looming!), so one of the servants leads Lysanor's horse there, and fortunately her brother reaches her just as she manages to catch a foot in dismounting, big arms reaching to snag her about the waist and simply set her down instead. One convenience of having such an ox for a brother. "Careful sis, there you are," he'll say as he gently places her down. "Glad to see you back. Let's go in, they've got some stew on!" He's had a serving already, but another won't hurt a lad his size!

So distracted is she that Lysanor doesn't even realize that her brother is near and as she works to get off of her horse, she is taken by surprise to feel his strong hands at her waist to carefully withdraw her from off her mount and settle her safely upon the ground. "Cyndeyrn!" She exclaims, finally realizing what had just happened. "You gave me a fright." If her mind wasn't filled with curious thoughts, she may not have been so easily ruffled, but today there is very little else that she can think about. With her horse being led away, Lysanor looks beyond her brother to view their manor in the distance. "Is father in right now?" She speaks her words with care, easily scanning the surrounding area in the case that she can spot him off in some far field or other.

"I think he's at the mill or maybe the bakers afterward," Cyndeyrn answers of their father, at first thinking nothing special of the inquiry. "Something about checking on the stores and making sure things are ready for the spring as well. Do you need him for something?" Even asking this, just as much as he was eager to lift her bodily down off the horse, he's equally so in ushering them both toward the hall, even sweeping his own cloak around to drape over her somewhat (though she surely has her own!) with the same arm that guides her along. "So what was this trip, and how was your ride? You gave me a little worry, setting off so quickly and without an escort?" She had escorts, of course, so obviously he really means 'without your big, strong brother to protect you!'

Success
You check your proud at 16, you rolled 6.

"Oh." Lysanor quickly says and is even more easily rushed towards the manor proper now, with her brother's guiding hand of course. It was much safer in there than it were out here, less their father suddenly showed up and she wasn't sure if she had the courage to speak with him at this moment. Even with her own cloak, the biting winds are still cold, so though she may not speak this nor realize it, she is grateful for the added comfort of Cyndeyrn's own cloak. "No" She shakes her head far too quickly in response to his question, "I do not need to speak with him. Not now, anyway. But I am glad that I have run into you, for there is something I wish to share." Hearing of Cyndeyrn's concern regarding her hasty departure, she retorts simply, "I had a group of retainers at my side. And Myfanwy," (her maid) was there too." She then lightly accuses, "I would have asked you to come, but you were already out with your own errands yourself." And yet, she knows that some of it may have been foolishness on her part. Believing the call to be important for their mission and wishing to be somewhat independent and dependable, she had set off without even waiting for Cyndeyrn's return.

Once they head inside, Cyndeyrn stopping to push open those same heavy doors and let his sister pass within ahead of him, the warmth of the hall quickly envelops them. It is a stuffy, smokey heat from the burning hearthfires, but far preferable to the cold without, which is sealed away as the doors close behind them. As promised, there is a heavy pot hanging over one of the fires, a low heat keeping the contents bubbling quietly. A servant does hasten forward with the two of Lord Dinton's children on their way in, offering particularly to take and hang Lysanor's cloak to dry from any snow that may have fallen on it. All of this bustle around them, her brother seems only half attentive to Lysanor's slightly odd manner, and his only response to this hanging revelation is a distracted "Hmm?" Mostly, he quickly gets a couple bread bowls from another servant and goes to dip them both some food. "I suppose the road to Sarum at least is likely safe enough," he will admit of the rest, "though I worry extra in this weather."

The young lady allows her cloak to be removed and hung to dry, before entering in further and relishing in this warmth. Feeling her flesh and her bones warm to the heat within the hall, Lysanor then stretches out her limbs before wandering over to the hearth so that she may warm her poor hands and cold fingers. She then quickly joins her brother at the table, settling herself down beside him, even if nervous eyes look towards the front door every so often. "We had not run into any problems, thankfully, but I try to travel during the daylight hours." Admittedly, she was starving. She had left Sarum so quickly to make her way back to Dinton before the sky began to darken that she had little time to eat beforehand. Though she had a few pieces of sweet bread to munch on along the way. But this… "That smells wonderfully." She breathes in the delicious aroma, feeling that her stomach may growl at any moment. She then continues, her tone more even when she speaks, "Sir Acwel wished to see me and I thought that he may needed some assistance for either one of the two missions that you both will be attending to, but it seems that he had other thoughts in mind. An inquiry, in fact."

"Even though you're small, you've never lacked for my appetite!" Well, maybe not his -exact- appetite. Still, Cyndeyrn's observation comes with a broad grin for his evidently starving sister as he returns and puts down the two bowls, setting one right before her, not just the smell of it wafting up, but the heat too! Soon he sits across from her and starts in on his, mostly just tearing off bits from the top of the bowl to dip within, although the same servant may eventually procure a spoon for Lysanor! "Hmm, did he?" he wonders back at the talk of Acwel's summons, and here, though, there is at least some dawning of realization, or maybe suspicion. "Odd that he'd summon you for that and not me directly. Well, what did he want?"

The edge of Lysanor's lips pull up into a smirk when her brother dares speak of her appetite! Still, she tries to make up dismissive excuses, "The journey was long and I, foolishly, brought little to eat. I can imagine poor Myfanwy and the others being just as famished." Her appetite, indeed! When the bowl is set before her, she is about to immediately reach for a piece of bread, but that would only justify her brother's 'taunt' and so she waits until that magic spoon is brought. She does, however, take a few bites of the hearty meal before she even begins to explain what had transpired in Sarum. Still a little hesitant , her eyes going back to the front door once again, she then comes to ask, "What do you think of Sir Acwel, dear brother? You must know him well enough, having trained and perhaps alongside one another as knights." This may not help ease Cyndeyrn's suspicions at all.

Cyndeyrn just sits there grinning as Lysanor protests his characterization of her, and continues all the while that she eats her first bites, at least until he gets distracted by his own food and has a bit more himself. "Well," he'll wonder around a bit of soaked bread, "I know him well enough, maybe not as long as our closer neighbors who were about growing up, but certainly when we were old enough to train and squire, we'd see a bit of each other whenever our knights were on duty in Sarum. He's a good enough sort, if a bit stuffy and sure of himself like most in the Latin church." And while he may not be some great, scheming wit or quick on the pickup, it is now that it seems he catches on. Cyndeyrn is ever ready to watch other knights sniffing around Lysanor when he is there in person, and now he gets some whiff of it from the tale. "So why -did- he call you away like that? He did not want anything… untoward, did he?"

Breaking off a pice of her bread now, Lysanor daintily dips it into her stew before taking a small bite of the crust. The food is comforting, even though her nerves are making her a bit ill, which normally would have diminished most of her hunger. As Cynderyn explains to her, vaguely, of his meetings with Acwel in the past, all she can do is nod. But then, he poses a question which makes her large eyes widen all the more, her head quickly shaking, "Of course, not. He was a gentleman, for the most part. Even paying for my meal that evening." And here she is, eating once more. Now, her voice lowers and she does not meet her brother's gaze, knowing that he expects a direct answer to his question, "He called upon me to see if father had received any missives regarding my," A light pause, "Hand. In marriage." Those bright blue eyes of her then raise to stare out at Cyndeyrn, "You have not heard of anything of the sort, have you?" There is almost something hopeful that can be seen within her eyes.

The bit about the meal hardly seems to comfort Cyndeyrn overly. "It's not his responsibility to be feeding you, either," he will point out, as perhaps such basic things fall too near to the responsibilities of family and spouse. "As I said, those Romans are very arrogant!" Of course by then he is both bothered enough, and worrying of at least… related things, that her actual explanation doesn't come as much further surprise, earning an almost grunted sort of answer. "I am not privy to every message father gets, but I am sure he has had -many- offers for you, Lys. You are a well-bred and well-mannered young lady, and, erm, well obviously a beauty as well, in the eyes of men. Other men." Ahem. Now, having said all that, his initial defensiveness seems to fade a little. "I could not say if father favors one more than the others. Sir Acwel would not be a bad match, if that is his intention, I suppose. What do you think of him, rather than asking me?"

"He was only being kind and generous." Lysanor says in Acwel's defense, believing that this was truly his intention. "I thought it would be impolite to turn his offer down." Still, this is what the young lady had been wanting to hear. She wanted that sense of her brother's protectiveness of her, so that he would give her his true insights on this particular match, among others. When Cyndeyrn goes on, his words do not bring her the news which she had hoped for, but his optimism doesn't allow for that hope to fade. "If father had heard of anything, I'd hope that he would tell me." Idly, she begins to once more dip the edge of her bread into the stew, though this time, she speaks before attempting a bite. "Not that it is necessary for him to do so." Then the question which she had asked her brother is now returned to her and she needs some time to ponder her own thoughts and emotions over. "Sir Acwel is very charming. So full of compliments and very bold. A man who knows what he wants." She does not look at her brother when she utters those words. "That said, I do not know him very well. He was, however, kind to give me time to ponder his offer before he sends word to father." She does not, however, inform her brother on the true reason that she has been given this time. Not yet.

"Precisely because there are very likely many offers, it is quite unlikely father would bother you with most of them," Cyndeyrn points out in something of a contradiction to her own thought on the matter. "I imagine he will tell you when he makes a decision." A sad, though unfortunate fact of such marriage arrangement. "Still, I can speak with him about it, if you'd like. I am involved more in the running of things, these days." He doesn't go on to point out that it is because of their father's age and the fact that he must be ready to take over the family's concerns. "Or even," and here there is a hint of a smile, not just rare on her brother's face in general, but the sort that is indicates a bit of him talking just between them as siblings. "Make suggestions, one way or another? I don't know if it would sway him much, but there's no harm in it, hmm?" Listening to her talk about Acwel a little, he points out, "It's rare to know one's spouse very well before hand, I think? Surely there would be some courtship still, and time enough for that, and I am sure one learns the greater part in marriage itself." Even saying this, trying to sound wise, there is as much uncertainty in his voice, as clearly he knows little more of such things than she does.

Letting out a wistful sigh, Lysanor finally takes that bite from her stew soaked bread before placing the remainder of the bread to absorb more of that delicious stew. "You may be right, but it still leaves me feeling uncertain." And then, when Cynderyn makes mention that he may be able to persuade their father in his decision, does the young woman's eyes truly light up. "Do you think that he will listen?" There is even a hint of excitement in her voice as she leans in ever so slightly forward in her brother's direction. Yet, with her cheeks flushed with color, perhaps from the cold, or her own feelings of bashfulness for whatever reason, she settles back down within her seat. "I could only ever do such a thing if I knew who the candidates were. It would not do to push forward a name if that person had not sent word to father to begin with." The rest of what Cyndeyrn says is wise advice and the young lady does realize that she is being quite silly to worry so. "Father will choose the right person for me and whomever it is, I will certainly make the best of it." Something does, now, come to mind, and here she states, "Of anyone, it is you whom father should be finding a match for."

Nodding his head in understanding, Cyndeyrn pauses to take a bite when she does, although he probably takes a bit longer chewing the larger chunk before speaking again. "Well, it is uncertain," he admits. "But there is nothing in the world I'd not do for my little sister, so I will try at least, as much as I can." Still, he has to pause when she makes such a point about not suggesting a name. "… Is there someone who you do not want to push forward but would prefer all the same, and hope has also been in touch with father? It might be easier for me to find out, knowing some of the specifics, but I'll not rack you for your secrets if you'd rather keep them." He grins a bit at that, then nods a little more solemnly when the levity fades. "He loves you every bit as much as I do, so I'm sure he'd never send you somewhere… ill-suited, or where you'd be mistreated or otherwise have reason to be unhappy. You'll get a brave knight from a good Christian family no matter what, I'm sure." Then, a little ruefully, "While I might convince him to speak of plans for you, asking about my own, he may not think it wise I be encouraged to interfere. It does make me a little nervous to think of, not knowing… well, how to be a husband exactly. But maybe having a sister gives me a bit more training than those who've only had brothers growing up."

Her brother had always been sweet to her and Lysanor greatly appreciated is kindness and support over the years. She could feel her heart racing as her mind debates on whether she should speak up or not and in her nervousness, she reaches to toy and fiddle with her pendant, only to remember that she no longer had it. With her fingertips pressed against her collarbone, her hand quickly lowers as she fights to regain her own strength. "I cannot say." She starts, before a lovely smile forms on her lips, "I've met and made many acquaintances throughout my life, many of them suited candidates, I'm sure. But truly, what would I know about who is right for me?" Yet, there is some regret when she speaks those words. To her brother, however, she looks thoughtful, "I suppose, there is no one out there who has stolen your gentle heart?" She lets out another sigh, "It's understandable, really. Knowing that this decision is completely out of our hands." She then smiles brightly once again, before saying in a teasing tone, "I only pray that you are matched with a wife so fine and kind and gentle of temperament as I."

For Cyndeyrn, his sister's small fidgeting movements reveal no greater meaning in the moment, lacking as he is another half of the puzzle. But when Lysanor declares her secret, he does not press on. "Well, I understand that. Maybe, in a way, its better not to say anything of it, especially when one is unsure if it will ever come to be. It could be awkward for others to know then, I suppose." He smiles again. "Not that I'd ever tell your secret." But true to his word, there is no further pressure on some revelation, and in a moment of silence, he again looks briefly to the soup for some refuge. It proves convenient, in fact, as his sister turns the question back on him. Or maybe the opposite, as he coughs a bit around a mouthful that suddenly goes down the wrong way. "I, ah, well… I do not know. Both father and Sir Wylye were strict with me, and in my training I've not had much time to think on such things. Of course, there are many ladies I see in town, especially with all the gathering now. But few I've ever spoken more than a few words with, just pleasantries and such."

She may have returned home with her emotions in shambles, but the young Dinton maiden has found some relief by this very conversation with her brother. Lysanor partakes another bit of stew, this time using the spoon, before she looks as if she were finished with her meal. "I could always speak to some of the young ladies to pry them of their own little secrets." Her heart and soul now uplifted once more, she lets a playful laughter ring through the hall. When the Wylye are mentioned, she does bring up, "Was there no one in Wylye to catch your eye, seeing that you were there for most of your youth once you became squire." She now watches her brother carefully, though she does not understand why, but the question in hand seems like an important one to her for whatever reason.

"Ah, you needn't engage in any … gossip or whatnot on my behalf," Cyndeyrn quickly replies, shaking his head and holding up his hands, one still holding a bit of dripping bread. "Such things are, I mean. What if you were to discover someone, and tell me, and then father had some other plans? I think, mayhaps my ignorance is a blessing in such matters." He at least seems cognizent of the fact that he is far from… knowledgeable about the fairer sex, and likely misses a great deal. "Father will pick well for me I'm sure, and the thought of, well, of any woman, it is somewhat…" He fails to come up with the words. "Better that I not begin fantasizing over one or another." Then he shakes his head. "The Wylyes had some female kin of course, but not… Well, as I said, Sir Wylye was strict with me. It was all training that I paid any mind to!" Or so he says!

Her lips pursed into a tight smile as she tries to hold back her laughter, Lysanor reaches to tap her brother on the arm that is not holding the drippy bread, "Very well then, if that is what you wish." Her gaze just stares down at her half-filled bowl in ponderment of everything that was discussed this day. Though when her brother mentions how strict the Wylye Lord was on him, thus in turn, his not really having the chance to see if any of the women there would catch his fancy, she takes this as something spoken in all seriousness, knowing very well how strict their own father can be. She then finally rises, "I think I should rest up a bit, then double check the packs which you will be taking to Tilshead. I do not want you to be without medical supplies or provisions of any sort." Then with a few simple steps, she leans into Cynderyn to give the big ox a sisterly embrace, "Thank you for hearing me out, dearest brother. I greatly appreciate your opinions and advice." Once she releases him does she undo the ribbon from her hair, letting her already loose braids become all the more loose, then ties it to one of her brother's muscular arms. "I will be with you in spirit and I will pray that the Lord watches over you and the knights whom you ride with."

Cyndeyrn never leaves a half-filled bowl of anything unless he's called from the table to fight invaders! Though he will stop his somewhat uncouth gesticulating when Lysanor reminds him of it, and at least set the bit down in the bowl for now. "You've had a long ride," he says as a form of agreement with the notion of her taking rest. "And I am sure the packs are all well… packed! But it won't hurt any if you want to give them all a last check." The latter is said with a fond smile, one that continues as she steps from her seat and comes to give him (or at least, some portion of him!) a squeeze. "You can always rely on-" he'll start to say as some answer to her, but pauses mid thought as she pulls free that ribbon, unleashing some portion of the fiery mass beneath it. At first his expression is of mildly confused surprise, until she completes the gesture, which draws out a rather touched sort of smile, and causes him to further reach and touch the place on his arm where she fastens it, with the other. "I'm gladder to have this from you, than from any gossiping maid, I think. Thank you sister, I know it will keep me safe."